


fearless, and therefore powerful

by Aseikh



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Canon Rewrite, Character Death Fix, Finally, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Girl Power, Grief/Mourning, Letting the Girls Run the Show, Major Character Death Swap, Major Character Undeath, Missing in Action, TRR Rewrite, Will Dies Instead of Alyss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: When Alyss learns that her husband died in a fire coming back from his latest mission, she didn't believe it at first. After a while, she convinced the others that she was finally starting to heal from losing Will. When an attack on the Royal Family leaves Horace and Duncan injured, Cassandra decides that protecting her daughter is imperative. Alyss takes Maddie up as her new apprentice under a fake name--but it isn't long before Maddie realizes that her Aunt wasn't being entirely truthful about everything that happened to her husband.
Relationships: Alyss Mainwaring & Madelyn "Maddie", Cassandra | Evanlyn & Alyss Mainwaring, Halt O'Carrick & Alyss Mainwaring, Horace Altman/Cassandra | Evanlyn, Pauline duLacy & Alyss Mainwaring, Pauline duLacy/Halt O'Carrick, Will Treaty/Alyss Mainwaring
Comments: 42
Kudos: 34





	1. wyvern inn

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a TRR AU. I never liked it (and I never really hid that fact). So here it is. I've spoken about this idea a little bit, but I hope even if some of y'all figure out where this is going, that you will still enjoy it. This fic follows canon up until TRR, obviously.

**part 1: cataclysm**

Studying the sky, Will watched as the sun went below the horizon, turning the sky orange with the sunset. This far south, it was still warm, and he found that he didn't need to pull his cloak closer around him. Instead, he stood on Tug's stirrups to look ahead—there should be a village coming up soon.

Just barely visible, Will could see columns of smoke in the distance, with peaks of rooftops giving away what it was. Sitting back down on the saddle, Will leaned forward to pat Tug's neck. "Almost there, bud," he murmured, nudging the small horse forward.

 _Almost home?_ Tug rolled his eyes at his master.

Will smiled but shook his head. "I wish," he said back softly. "Still got a few days travel for that, and then we can rest for a bit."

Tug shook his mane and looked away from his master, continuing his track for the village in the distance. The two had traveled south to deal with a large bandit group on behalf of the Task Force, even though it was only Will. It was a routine problem, one Will had done thousands of time, and now he and Tug were returning home. They'd been traveling for a few days already, but about another week of travel would see them back to Redmont. With his back aching, Will decided it would be reasonable enough to sleep at an inn for the night instead of his usual camp in the nearby forest. He was all for saving the money, but he wasn't that young anymore and would appreciate something at all softer then a hard, dirt floor.

Letting Tug take the lead, Will fidgeted with the silver ring on his left hand. He had kept it off during the mission, knowing that the silver would give him away in the field. But now that he was traveling, he had deemed it okay to slip the small piece of metal back where it belonged. He would see Alyss soon, he thought, thinking of her. He would get home and Halt would let Will rest for a few days before once again splitting the Redmont work with him. Alyss would still have to work, but Pauline would come up with a few excuses for her to work from the cabin for the few days Will had off. It was how it worked in the past, and Will was excited to have those few days of relaxation alone with the love of his life.

Another half hour's ride brought him to the edge of the village, where tracks branched off the main road to smaller houses. The main road was crowded with the normal businesses: a smithy, a butcher, general market, tavern, and an inn. Will let Tug go by all the businesses, ignoring the odd glances of the few townsfolk still up and around. A Ranger wasn't a new sight to them—just an uncommon one. Will's hood was already pushed back, and despite the few weeks of scruff he had on his face, he smiled warmly at those who would meet his gaze. He didn't exactly have the young, welcoming face that had once brought him smiles wherever he went, but sometimes just the simple smile would be enough for people to not be wholly terrified of him.

Tug came to a stop beside the inn. The sign outside had a snaking, dark green serpent with wide wings spread just under the name of the inn. _Wyvern Inn,_ Will read, tipping his head to the side as he dismounted Tug. _What a peculiar name._ He would leave Tug outside the front until he was sure he had a room for the night, and then he would settle the small horse in the stables for his own stay over night. He was sure the horse would also appreciate the night in.

 _You're going in looking like that?_ Tug neighed behind him. Will looked back at his horse, smiling crookedly and hoping no one on the streets saw him. He looked down at his clothing—standard Ranger wear, worn riding boots, his cloak. As far as he could tell, he wasn't overly messy or anything. There were a few mud stains here and there, especially on the knees of his trousers, but he actually looked fairly well put together compared to others he could see inside.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Will said, putting a hand on his chin and letting his fingers pick at the light scruff. He could never grow a beard comparable to Halt's, so anything more then a few weeks scruff looked patchy and uneven. Will knew he wasn't at that point yet, even if it did make him look sloppy. He would have to shave when he got home.

 _Nothing, just wanted to make you look._ Tug snorted, rolled his eyes, and looked away before Will could say anything else. Will scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes he wondered how he got saddled with such a sassy horse; he was convinced that Halt had orchestrated it on purpose, meaning to mess with Will as far into the future as possible.

Turning away, the Ranger started to walk towards the front door of the inn when he noticed a young woman and a girl, who he assumed to be her daughter, walking hand-in-hand towards the inn from the other direction. The woman was about the same height as Will, with reddish-brown hair cut into a bob at her shoulders. The girl had similarly colored hair, except it was longer, nearly down to her waist. The little girl's big brown eyes stared up at Will as he went to open the door for them, stepping to the side to let them in before him.

The young woman smiled in thanks, either not noticing the mottled cloak at his shoulders, or simply not caring. As they went to step through the doorway, the little girl halted in her steps, apparently entranced by Will—or the pony behind him.

"Momma, look!" she pointed behind Will to where Tug waited. Noticing the attention, Tug shook his mane and snorted, standing slightly taller. Will immediately noticed that he was mimicking how battlehorses stood, with their neck tall and proud. Internally, he rolled his eyes, knowing that this horse was soaking in the attention and letting it go to his head.

"Eden, it's not polite to point," the woman said, tugging on her daughter's hand. "Let's go inside."

The girl, however, was focused on Tug. "But Momma! It's a pony! I want to pet it!" She started tugging back on her mother's hand, trying to move past Will and the door.

In the dim light coming from inside the inn, Will could see the mother's cheeks start to darken. The mother didn't look up at Will, instead looking down at her daughter, apparently ready to scold her. "Eden, you can't just go around pointing at other people's animals and demanding to pet them. You have to ask first, and—"

"Can I pet your pony?" Eden said, turning on Will. "Please?" She didn't seem to notice or care, or really understand, who Will was. The mother, however, was nervously glancing at him, probably sure that he was going to get mad. That was one thing Will disliked about being seen as a Ranger: people assumed he would get mad or angry if inconvenienced, when really he only wanted to help them.

"I'm sorry, sir," the mother started, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand. "She loves horses, doesn't really stop to ask or anything, we—"

Will raised a hand, stopping the mother from continuing. "It's okay," he said, laughing slightly. "I used to be just like her." He looked down at the young girl, lowering his hand to her level. "He loves getting pet," Will continued, "and I actually forgot to give him his treat for today." He hadn't, he always remembered to give Tug his apple (Tug wouldn't let him forget), but from the way her eyes widened, he was sure both participants would be elated for the extra treat.

Without a word, she dropped her mother's hand and latched onto his. She reminded him of Maddie, Horace and Cassandra's daughter, when she was a few years younger. She was fourteen now, just getting the rebellious phase that Cassandra was dreading, but at ten, she was fascinated with all the different horses at Castle Araluen and Redmont, demanding her father help her up into the various saddles. "But first," Will said, grinning as he remembered his niece trying to climb up Tug's saddle when he wasn't watching, unaware of the code word needed to ride him. "But first, we have to make sure your mother is okay with it."

Eden spun, still gripping his hand tightly. "Please, momma?" she asked, "Please?"

She hesitated for a moment, looking between Will and her daughter, a conflicted look on her face. But in looking back up to Will, seeing the cloak hooked at his throat, the oakleaf just peeking out of his collar, and lastly, the silver ring on his left ring finger, she seemed to finally remember that Rangers were supposed to help the common person—not hurt them. Still slightly unsure, the mother slowly nodded, stepping out of the doorway so that Will could let it shut.

Literally jumping with joy, Eden started to dart forward, excited to get closer to Tug. Will could see his horse pondering the approaching girl, his eyes big. He stamped, shaking his mane, and snorted. Knowing it was just for show, but also wanting to delight the girl further, Will paused and bent down a bit to her level. "We have to approach slowly," he said, his voice at a quiet volume that was just loud enough for the mother behind them to hear. "He loves apples, but if we go too fast, he might get scared."

Tug rolled his eyes at Will, seemingly saying _Where is this stuff coming from? Just give me the damn apple already._

However, just as he expected, Eden seemed to be even more delighted by this new information. She stepped slowly at Will's side, grinning wildly. When they were just in front of Tug, Will dropped Eden's hand for a moment to step forward and pull an apple from one of the saddlebags at Tug's side. Knowing he shouldn't give Tug _too_ much, he pulled his throwing knife out and split the apple, putting one half back into the pouch. He would save that for later.

He turned back to Eden, his throwing knife already back in it's sheath, and he held his hand back out for her. She took it, stepping closer to Tug as her mother followed just a step behind.

"Hold your hand out," he said, mimicking how she should hold the apple for Tug to grab. "Just right here," he patted a spot on Tug's neck that was low enough for her to touch. As he did so, though, Tug started to play along, dropping his neck so he could sniff the apple she was holding. The little girl started to giggle, letting the apple sit in her open palm as Tug started to crunch down on it, allowing her to pet closer to his head and mane. Will made sure he was standing next to Tug, holding the reins even though he knew Tug wouldn't move too much or hurt Eden in anyway. Her mother didn't know that, though, and he could see her anxiously watching a few steps away.

When Tug had finished the apple piece, he looked up, rolling his eyes at Will again, probably looking for the second piece. _Where is it?_

"You'll get the other half later," Will said, wrapping his arm over Tug's neck and patting the other side.

"Can I ride him?" The question burst out of Eden's lips before he had noticed the little girl stepping closer to the side, her eyes dead-set on the stirrup.

Eden's mother started to move forward, saying, "No, Eden, stop—"

They didn't know about the code word—no one except Rangers and a few choice others did—but he understood why the mother would be worried about her daughter climbing up on a stranger's horse, even if that stranger was a King's Ranger.

"Oh, no, not tonight," he said quickly, expertly moving to lift her off the stirrup that she was already half on. "He's really tired, since we traveled so far today," Will said, thinking up an excuse. He swung her around, placing her back on the ground just in front of her mother.

Behind him, Tug snorted and shook his mane. _You didn't really think I'd buck a child off me, did you?_

Will ignored his horse, instead looking at Eden's mother and the little girl. "You don't just climb onto someone's horse like that, Eden," she said, her shaking hands brushing her daughter's loose hair behind her ears. "You could have gotten hurt, or—or—"

"It's okay," Will said, smiling gently at her. "Tug's pretty well-behaved, and actually handles children quite well." When Maddie had pulled herself into his saddle, Will had darted forward, terrified that Tug would follow his training and buck his ten-year-old goddaughter off. But all he had done was look back at her and snort, as if knowing she shouldn't be there but not wanting to get rid of her. He had let Will pull Maddie down and hand her off to her father, only to look at Will with another offended look. _I'm not heartless,_ his eyes seemed to say.

The young woman looked back up at him, and then back down at her daughter. She let out a pent up breath and then stood to her full height. Taking her daughter's hand, she turned Eden around to face Will. "Tell the Ranger thank you for letting you feed and pet his horse," she said firmly, "and apologize for trying to get into the saddle."

When Eden didn't say anything right away, her mother tilted her head and pursed her lips, looking down at her. "Eden Marie," she said, "say thank you and apologize right now." Her voice was the perfect image of distressed mothers everywhere, both loving and caring but also exasperated with her child's antics. Will distinctly recalled Cassandra using it with Maddie on multiple occasions, while Duncan laughed and did absolutely nothing to help.

Another moment passed, the girls eyes flickering over the ground, until finally Eden looked up at Will, her eyes wide and full of guilt and regret. "Thank you for letting me pet and treat your pony, Mr. Ranger," she mumbled, "and I'm sorry for trying to ride him. He looked so friendly, I wasn't thinking."

Will smiled, nodding to accept the apology. He once again held his hand out to her, kneeling down in the dirt so his face was at her level. "That's alright," he said, making sure she saw his smile. He loved kids, even if he wasn't interested in having any of his own. It could be important later that they weren't afraid of you, and Will just didn't like the feeling of having a child afraid of him to begin with. "I'm sure Tug didn't mind. But your mum's right—trying to ride random horses could get dangerous, so always make sure the owner is with you and that they're watching." Then, after hesitating for a moment, Will decided to add something on. "And if you're a good girl tonight and listen to your mother, we might have time in the morning to give you a short riding lesson."

At the last sentence, Will watched as Eden's face brightened. She looked back at her mother, who was struggling to not let a smile of her own break out on her face. She looked at Will, raising an eyebrow as if she didn't quite believe him.

"But it's getting late now," he said, standing back up. He gestured towards the front door of the inn, nodding for them to move before him.

Eden's mother, who he later learned was named Andrea, seemed to be warming to Will's presence, her tense shoulders relaxing from when they'd originally stiffened at the sight of the tavern room full of loud and drunk men. A few made comments at her seeing that she was alone, but the moment Will stepped up next to her, his cloak thrown behind his shoulders but still obvious, his oakleaf at his throat, they all quickly shut up. Both Will and Andrea walked towards the bar, and both asked for a room for the night and dinner. The barkeep nodded at first, but then paused.

"We only have one single and a double left. I assume you want the double?" he pointed the last remark towards Andrea, raising his one good eye to look at her. The other was covered by a dark cloth. Eden was holding her hand, probably the reason why the man made the assumption.

Andrea frowned, looking into her money pouch. "Oh, I …" she hesitated, her cheeks coloring once again. The double rooms were more expensive, and she had asked for single. But it wouldn't make sense for Will to take the double, even if he paid for it, because he was one person, and they were two.

Before she had to go through explaining that she didn't have enough to afford the double room _and_ dinner, Will put a hand over her coin pouch. "I can pay for both," Will said, speaking to the barkeep. Without hesitating, Will pulled out the amount for both the rooms from his pouch. He'd saved a bit camping in forests for the majority of his trip, and he'd be arriving back to Redmont with more then enough of his traveling stipend left over to cover this.

"Oh, no, I can't—" Andrea started, reaching forward to stop Will from handing over the pieces.

"Please," Will said, dropping the coins in the man's outstretched hand. The man didn't seem to care who paid or why, just as long as he got the money. "It's really no bother. Plus, two beds would go to waste for me." He shrugged.

After a moment's hesitation, Andrea let out a sigh. "Okay …" she said quietly, "But I can pay you back for some of it, I can't—"

Will waved away the rest of whatever she was going to say. "Don't bother," he said, accepting the change from the barkeep for what he'd overpaid.

While they waited for their dinner at the bar, Eden latched herself to Will's hip, asking him different questions about Tug and what he did and how long he'd had Tug. Will hadn't wanted to explain the whole system to her, and it was mostly confidential, so Will had just responded that he'd gotten Tug from a friend four years ago, and that Tug was his third horse, his first two being named Bellerophon and Peisander. That was when their dinner came out, steaming meat, mashed potatoes, and a warm, buttered bun. He nodded to Eden and Andrea, who accepted their plates at the same time he did, and he turned to go eat at the corner booth that was thankfully empty.

The next thing he knew, Eden was following him to his seat where he was going to eat his dinner, asking him where those names had come from and why he'd gone from names like Bellerophon and Peisander to Tug. All the while, Andrea was apologizing for her daughter, trying to pull her away to a different seat, scolding her to stop bothering the Ranger. It was only after Will had broke out in laughter, partially disrupting the tavern area, and told her that it was okay and invited them to sit with him.

The young woman hesitated, looking around her at the other empty seats. There was another booth across the room open, but it was right by the fire and a singing crowd of drunken farmers. Other tables were open, but they would be sharing it with other small groups or be separated from each other. The corner where Will was headed was mostly quiet.

She nodded, another grateful look in her eyes.

As they ate, Eden asked more questions about Tug. How old was he? _Eight, I got him when he was four years old._ What's his favorite treat? _Apples, I always carry them because it's the only thing he'll eat besides grain._ How fast can he run? _Very fast, faster then you could believe._ Faster then a fox? _So much faster then a fox._ Does he have any friends? _Yes, three other horses named Abelard, Kicker, and Malcolm, and an dog named Sable._ All of those names sounded normal except for Malcolm—why did they name a horse a person's name?

"Eden!" Andrea broke in, her face shocked at her daughter's words. "Don't insult someone's name, even if it's a horse."

Will snorted though, setting his coffee cup down before he spilled it or breathed it in. "Malcolm was named after a friend of mine that passed," Will said simply. "We call the horse Mal, though."

After another round of questions, Will and Andrea noticed Eden was barely keeping her eyes open. Her head was drooping against her mother's shoulder, her hand slowly dropping where it rested beside her half-eaten plate.

"We should get you to bed," Andrea murmured, brushing her daughter's forehead with a gentle touch. There was so much love in her movements, especially when she thought Will wasn't watching.

Moving to stand, Andrea nudged Eden awake, gently pulling her daughter from the booth seat and helping her stand. She paused at the sight of their dishes, though, looking up towards where they were supposed to bring them back to the bar. It would be a hassle for her to carry them with a tired child hanging in her arms.

"I got it," Will said, standing as well. "Don't worry about it."

Eden hung onto her mother's side, rubbing her face into her skirt. "Momma, I wanna go to bed," she moaned, sniffling.

Andrea rolled her eyes, smiling at Will as she did so. "Thank you …" she paused, somehow realizing that she had never gotten Will's name.

"Will," he provided for her. He collected all of their dishes, stacking one on top of the other before looking back at her.

"Thank you … Will," she said again, smiling. "You didn't have to do everything tonight and I … I'm grateful. Thank you."

Will nodded back to her, smiling. "It was my pleasure. Have a good night," he said softly, and then nodded again down at Eden: who was once again dozing, hugging her mother's leg.

Andrea patted Eden's shoulder. "Say goodnight to Ranger Will," she said softly, smiling.

Eden rubbed a palm in her left eye, staring up blearily at him. "G'night Mr. Ranger Will," she mumbled sleepily. "G'night horsey," she said without prompt, with Tug nowhere in sight.

Will laughed, and watched as the two of them made their way across the tavern, collecting the keys for the double room from the barkeep before heading upstairs, side-by-side. Once he was sure he saw them head up there without trouble (bar patrons weren't allowed upstairs without the barkeeps permission), he finished collecting the plates, downed the last of his cold coffee, and started towards the bar himself. He placed the platters on the counter, his mug on top, and traded them for the single room key.

The barkeep nodded at him, looking him up and down. "Ranger, are ya?" he asked, probably now that Will was alone and not with company.

He nodded, letting his hand rest on his saxe knife easily. That could mean a lot of things—'Don't mess with me' or 'Did you need help with something?'

The man didn't seem to notice or care. "We've had problems in the area with a bandit gang," he said, motioning towards the men in the tavern, "most of 'em have gotten jumped and beat down, but would never admit it to yer face," he continued. "Normally they'd move on by now, but these ones are getting bolder by the night, targetin bigger groups. Our Ranger don't come by often, only every few weeks, so I was wondering if you'd be willing to look into it before something worse happens."

Will thought for a minute. Normally, he wouldn't—these problems were for the Ranger who was stationed at the fief. But if they were getting bolder, and the man was willing to come to a Ranger he didn't know for help, then it was probably serious. They needed help.

"I'll see what I can do," Will said simply, looking around the tavern and just now noticing the stark white bandages on various body parts. He would have to also swing by the local Ranger's cabin after dealing with the problem, so he could inform them on what happened and have them in the area more often. Sometimes this happened when he traveled.

The barkeep nodded. "Thank you," he said, and started to reach down at pull out his coin purse. He started to pull the exact coins Will had paid him for the rooms, not minus the change he had given over or anything.

"Don't, please," Will said, putting a hand flat on the counter. His ring clinked on the hardwood. "Keep the money. This is my job. No need to pay me extra for it."

The man grunted, nodding at the counter but refusing to meet Will's eyes. "Thank you," he said again. "They hurt my friend, and I want them gone from this area," he explained. "Too many have gotten hurt by their hand."

After another brief exchange, Will was heading up the stairs to the last room. He would drop his satchel off in the room before slipping out the door once again to unsaddle Tug and brush him down. He already felt bad for leaving him out like that for so long, as normally he would have done that when he was sure he had a room, but he hadn't wanted to leave Eden and Andrea in the tavern alone. He was sure Tug would understand, but that didn't mean he would be free of his horse's sass.

It took another half hour to unsaddle Tug and to brush him down, but when he did, he gave Tug the other half of the apple he'd promised, patting his horse's neck and smiling at him. "Sounds like we have something extra to look into tomorrow," Will said absently, resting his forehead against Tug's neck. "Might be a bit longer before we get home, bud."

Tug snorted, crunching up the remains of the apple. _Fine by me. Just make sure you keep the apple stock up._

Will gave his horse a crooked grin, pushing gently, playfully, at his neck. "Oh shut up," he said, "you already eat too many of those. I need to stop giving them to you."

 _That's just propaganda spread by Halt in his quest to take away my apples,_ Tug rolled his eyes at his master. _Stop giving them to me, and I'll stop working for you. I don't work for free, you know._

Now it was Will's turn to snort. "Oh, whatever," he muttered, standing up in the stable. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 _Sleep tight,_ Tug's eyes seemed to say, watching him walk away in the dark stable. _And don't die tonight. You owe me more apples tomorrow._


	2. the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to VallirenWrites again for helping me with a few details :')

Will woke to voices.

He lay still in his bed for a moment, listening. He could hear movement underneath him, where he knew the kitchen to be, as well as the voice that had woken him. It was deep, with a distinct Araluen accent and wildly angry. It wasn't the barkeep Will had met last night, and it certainly wasn't the innkeeper Will had peeked in the backroom—a small, petite woman who had called across the kitchen with a Scotti accent. The voice was unfamiliar, and definitely not where it was supposed to be.

Sure there was no one in his room, Will sat up from his spot in the bed, swinging his legs off the edge and shoving them directly into his unlaced boots that sat right at the edge. He looked around the small room he'd fallen asleep in—only a few inches from his knees, a side table and wash basin sat empty. To his right was the window, where he could just see the full moon through the curtains, the top of the bed shoved up right underneath it. To his left, the door, underneath which showed nothing but darkness in the hallway. The candles were probably snuffed sometime after midnight, after the tavern below had closed and the innkeeper had gone to bed.

His mind raced. The barkeep had told him the bandits were getting bolder, hitting bigger targets in the area. Would they try and break into the inn? Something hit the floor beneath him, knocking into the stone wall that the main floor was built out of. The louder voice cursed, one of the quieter voices apologizing.

Slowly, Will stood from his spot, casting his gaze around his room. It could be nothing, but it could also be something. He reached for his belt hanging off the bedpost, looping it around his waist and pulling it tightly. The knives at his hip, he started for the door, before hesitating. His quiver rested beside the basin and his longbow was unstrung and leaning against the wall. It would take a moment longer to string and bring along, but it would also be more useful than just his knives. He only had his two knives, while his bow would provide him an extra 24 arrows. He didn't know how many people were down there, either.

He hooked the quiver on the other side of his belt, not wanting to bother with throwing it over his shoulder and dealing with reaching up and over for an arrow. Sure, he'd trained and worked as a Ranger for years with the quiver over his shoulder, but after a shoulder injury, he found it easier to do it this way. Plus, he was able to nock an arrow without throwing his arm up in the air and risk getting shot.

Maybe he'd have to think about bringing this technique to Crowley's attention whenever he saw him again.

Quickly stringing his bow, he tucked the laces of his boots into the leather and stepped silently towards the door. He moved closer to the wall, where creaks were less likely, and swung the door open, checking first to see if the hinges were greased or not. He entered the hallway silently, already slipping an arrow out of the quiver and setting it on the bow to have it ready.

The voices below him moved but remained in the kitchen, still apparently arguing over whatever they were doing. Will took a deep breath, glancing behind him down the hallway. He had the first door, right at the stairwell. There were four other doors behind him, one of them belonging to the young mother and girl that he met that night.

He couldn't let anything happen to them, let alone the others in the rooms behind him.

Slipping down the stairs, Will's eyes scanned the tavern. The taproom was empty, chairs stacked on top of tables, the fire cold and the bar wiped down. All the liquor bottles were locked in a cabinet below the bar, but a quick glance as he slipped behind the counter showed that the lock had been busted, and all the alcohol except the cheap ale was gone. Any earnings from that night had probably been counted and put in the safe, which was either in the innkeeper's room or the kitchen.

From the flickering light and conversation, it was probably the latter.

"Just bust it open already, you dimwit," the voice snarled, the same one that had woken Will. "The longer we're here, the more likely it is someone will catch us."

"If you don't want to be caught, we have to be quiet," replied another voice, this one lower. "You busting open the liquor cabinet already put us on thin ice, Ruhl."

 _Ruhl._ Will made a mental note of the name, pulling his bow to half draw as he inched along the wall. The entrance to the kitchen was at the far end, with a short window that peeked into the kitchen that he was forced to duck under. It put him in a limited moving space, which made him thankful that he had grabbed his bow.

He inched along the wall, listening for any other signs that there were more people.

"He's got a point, Ruhl," a third voice said, "If we can't get it open, we'll have to just cut out losses and leave. We can make up for it at another point. Hit a few extra targets."

The first voice scoffed, and something in his voice told Will that the man had already stolen a few gulps of the liquor. "Oh, shove off it," he snarled, "We're not leaving without that coin. Matteo said they made good business tonight, more then usual, so _we're. Not. Leaving._ "

There was a clink, metal again metal. The second voice, the quieter one, cursed quietly and fumbled with something.

Will was trying to picture what was going on. He had never been in the kitchen, and had only gotten a brief glance into it the night before. From what he could figure out, one man was probably crouching at the safe in the back, trying to pick the lock. 'Ruhl' was probably standing beside him, waiting, while the third voice had seemed the closest to the doorway. Thankfully, there was a source of light somewhere in the kitchen—a lantern was flickering, casting shadows so Will could verify that there were indeed only three of them.

Three against one.

He took a deep breath, counting to prepare himself. He'd taken out more while alone before.

This was nothing.

Spinning around the corner, Will raised his bow and drew it back completely, aiming the arrow at the closest man's heart. "King's Ranger," Will snapped, holding his arm steady. "Drop your weapons."

The one he was aiming at spun—medium height and build with brown hair and a messy beard—immediately throwing his arms up into the air and dropping the rusty sword he'd been carrying to the ground.

The two behind him, though, weren't as easy. The one crouching at safe, small with black hair, jerked back at the sudden intrusion, knocking into a sack of flour just at his side. Flour went everywhere, spilling over the boy—because really, he was probably no more then 15—and covering the ground around him. He sputtered for a moment, struggling in the flour and throwing more up into the air as he tried to get to his feet.

The last one, though, the one he assumed was Ruhl, was the most difficult.

Immediately, before the first man had even dropped his sword, Ruhl hurled a half-empty glass liquor bottle at Will's head, snarling "Damn _Rangers."_ Will just barely ducked out of the way in time, hearing the glass bottle whistle over his head and smash against the bar behind him. Acting on instinct, Will let the arrow go, quickly changing the aim from the first man to Ruhl's wrist.

The arrow shot threw it, the power of the longbow pushing the arrow into and through the man's wrist before he could even register being hit. The arrow skittered against the wall behind them, startling the young boy in the flour. He stumbled again, falling back into the flour bag. Flour billowed into the air around him.

Ruhl screamed, hand flashing out to grab his wrist as blood spurted out of the wound. Instead of lashing out in anger again, Ruhl made a break for it, heading for the door in the opposite corner of the room that was wide open. If Will's memory of the inn served him correctly, that was the back entrance—if the intruder made it out there, it was likely he would lose him.

In his dart for the door, Jory slammed into the kid who was still struggling in the flour sack, throwing him against the wall and knocking his head into the shelf above him. Will shot another arrow after Ruhl, aiming for his legs this time, but the man was fast—boosted by pain and fear and alcohol, the bandit darted around the corner and was out of the inn before Will could even step into the kitchen.

The lantern, the only light in the room, shook on it's unsteady placement as the kid flailed, throwing the shadows of the two remaining bandits around the room. The first bandit still had his hands up, shaking in fear and eyes never leaving Will. But Will wasn't paying attention to him any longer.

"CATCH THE—" the lantern tumbled to the floor in what felt like a span of years—but in reality, it was only a few seconds; not enough time to even blink. In the span of a breath, before the kid could even turn to see what he'd run into, glass shattered and oil spilled across the floor. The flour in the air ignited and the kitchen burst into flames.

In the blink of an eye, the entire room exploded.

If Will had been a few inches closer, he probably wouldn't have survived.

Instead, the force of the explosion threw him backwards, slamming his lower back into the bar and flipping him over it. He landed on his shoulders on the other side of the bar—something cracked in his neck as he rolled over himself, struggling to breathe.

Screaming was coming from the kitchen, telling Will that the intruders he'd been trying to apprehend weren't as fortunate as him. Smoke was already filling the inn as he struggled to right himself, pain flaring up in his neck, arms, and back. The screams in the kitchen died out mere seconds later, before Will had even regained his feet. Fire was catching on the wooden floor and ceiling as he watched, eating it away as if it were nothing.

His thoughts jumped from one thing to another, fear and dismay nearly overwhelming him. He'd come down here to stop anything from happening, but instead two people were probably dead and the fire was only getting bigger as he watched. His back ached, his face stung where the fire had probably seared his eyebrows and scruff off, and, even worse, he was pretty sure his arm was badly seared. He'd instinctively risen it to block his head as he was blown off his feet, his bow being blow out of his hands. He could feel something warm dripping down his arm and he could only assume that it was blood.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but the smoke was already obscuring his vision, making it nearly impossible to see where he was. It was hard to think, hard to breathe, and common sense told him to run for the front door. The fire was already making it's way into the taproom where he still laid, the kitchen completely consumed in flames.

Then, he remembered the rooms upstairs.

He couldn't leave until everyone else was out.

His room was the only one above the kitchen, realizing that his belongings probably being burned away as he sat there. All the other rooms were on the other side of the hallway and down a turn—he had to get them out, before the fire blocked the stairs and they were all stuck.

Stumbling to his feet, Will made for the stairs on unsteady feet, abandoning his bow where it had fallen somewhere in the room. It would be too cumbersome, too much to worry about. He could replace a piece of wood—but those above him couldn't replace their lives.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Will flew past his room, not bothering to check—he could see fire licking underneath the crack of the door, smoke coming from the top. His cloak and spare clothing were probably incinerated already anyways. There was no point to go back in there.

"FIRE," Will yelled, banging on the doors as he ran by, ducked low and holding his non-injured arm over his mouth and nose. He tried the door handles as he went, finding most of them locked. "WAKE UP, FIRE!"

One of them flew open at his touch, revealing a lone man stumbling out of his bed with a wild look, wearing nothing but underwear. "What the fu—"

"King's Ranger," Will said, grabbing the bag he saw on the floor and throwing it at the man. He didn't even notice the spray of blood from his arm as he threw it. "Get the hell out of here, _now."_

Before the man could say anything, Will was out the door, checking on the final door. It was at the far end of the hallway, probably the most protected from the fire out of all of them.

Slamming his fist on the door, he glanced behind him, watching as the inn patrons opened their doors, clothing or blankets covering their mouths. They were all ducked low and moving for the stairs around the corner, where Will could only hope the fire hadn't gotten to already.

The door whipped open behind him, Andrea's hair and eyes wild.

"Ranger Will—" She started, but was cut off by a sudden coughing fit, the smoke making its way into her room.

"Andrea," Will said, looking behind her. "Grab Eden and get out of here—" the smoke choked him for a moment "—there's a fire. Steer clear of the kitchen, follow the others."

Will started to turn, intending to check the other rooms to make sure no one was left behind. Checking the first room, he heard footsteps go down the hallway behind him, telling him that Andrea and Eden were out. Going back out into the hallway, he glanced towards the far bedroom, just to double check.

It was empty.

He quickly checked the other rooms—three, including his, were singles, while there were only two doubles. Not counting himself, there should have only been six people leaving from the upstairs. He hadn't seen everyone individually leave, but it would have to be enough.

Moving through the thick smoke, Will stayed low, his eyes burning as he went down the stairs.

"Is everyone out?" a woman's voice said with a thick Scotti accent. He turned to look at her, realizing it was the innkeeper. She was standing just at the doorway, a damp cloth over her mouth as she reached a hand out towards him. She was surprisingly calm, especially for someone who's entire livelihood was going up into flames around her. He took it, letting the woman pull him the rest of the way out of the burning inn.

"I think so," he coughed, voice raw.

He stumbled slightly, but together, he and the innkeeper crossed the street to where a crowd of people were forming. People in houses nearby were pulling out blankets and spare clothing, handing them over the those who had just come out of the fire. Others were coming from down the street, buckets full of water splashing in their hands as they went towards the fire.

He didn't know how to tell them that a fire that size wouldn't be easily put out. On his way to the exit, he could hear glass shattering, the fire licking up alcohol stains from days past. The inn, even with it's stone base, would be ash in an hour. It would be best to just let it burn.

A flare up caught his attention, and he saw that the fire had finally caught to the stables and the hay bales. Thankfully, they were already empty—the horses had jumped the gate the moment the fire got too close, Tug leading the rest of the horses out of danger. He could just see his small horse pacing in circles further down the road, but before he could even think to go down to him, something latched onto his arm, pulling him away.

"Ranger Will!" Andrea said, her voice scratchy and panicked. He turned to her, his mind still foggy from all the smoke. His vision wasn't entirely clear, but he could see the tear streaks down her cheeks, the worry in her eyes.

"Andrea?" he said, immediately alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Eden—I can't find her anywhere," she started, waving her arms around her. "I swore she was right behind me, we were holding hands on the way down. But then she wasn't there, and someone pulled me out before I could go back for her, and I don't know—I don't know where she is, but she's not out here. I didn't know who else to go to, but my baby, Will, please—" Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she was shaking her head. Her hands were covered in ash and it streaked her hair as she ran her hands through it, pulling at it. "My baby, I can't lose her," she sobbed, gripping his arm tighter. "I can't lose her."

Will stared at her, thinking.

Slowly, he turned to look back at the inn, where he could see the windows of some of the rooms. Most shutters were closed, but it was easy to see the flames building up behind them, eating into the treated wood as they watched.

Going back in there now would be as good as any death sentence from Duncan, he knew. But he also couldn't leave a little girl in there to die. He remembered her wide smile as she fed Tug the apple earlier that day. Her big eyes as she leaned forward to pet his neck, absolutely delighted to be up close with a pony.

He had promised to let her ride Tug if she listened to her mother last night.

"You're sure she's still in there," he said, eyes frozen on the fire. At his side, he could see the mother hesitate and then nod. "I'll find her," he said softly, pulling out of Andrea's grip. Before anyone else could stop him or realize what he was doing, before Andrea could say anything else, he was sprinting towards the open door of the inn and diving back into the hungry flames.

He could hear the screams of people behind him, yelling for him, but no one dared follow him into the inn. The fire was already raging in the taproom, but he managed to slip up the stairs without taking anymore serious burns.

"EDEN," Will yelled, trying to stay low. The smoke was thick upstairs and flames were already consuming the side of the hallway that the kitchen was below, keeping him on the other side of the hallway. "EDEN!"

"… _help…"_ a weak voice called, coming from down the hall. Will just barely heard it among the raging fire, but it was just loud enough to make him turn.

It was coming from the bedroom at the far end.

"Eden—" he repeated, finally getting to the floor. He would have to crawl the rest of the way down the hall using his elbows and knees, keeping his stomach low to the ground. It was a short hall, not that long, but the smoke and the burning flames made it feel miles and miles long. It seemed like hours before he felt the top of his head bump into the wall.

He felt blindly in front of him, his vision mostly obscured by the smoke. The door hadn't been closed all the way, and somehow the flames hadn't made it all the way down the hall yet. There was just tons and tons of thick, black smoke.

Will pushed the door open, getting up from his position to his hands and knees. He crawled into the room, shutting his eyes briefly, feeling them burn.

"Eden," Will said, coughing. He covered his mouth with the inside of his elbow, forcing himself to open his eyes to look around the room.

Both beds were empty, the window locked and the shutters closed tightly. The smoke in the room was dark and he could barely even see at the level he was at.

But he could see just enough to notice the small form curled up underneath the bed on his right side, shoved up against the corner.

"Eden," he said, his voice so raw and scratchy that he sounded like a different person. He reached underneath the bed, holding tightly to her arm, and pulling her out from under the bed. He didn't want to be rough, but he had to get her out of there.

Will scooped Eden up in his arms and against his chest. She coughed hard, jerking in his arms, but she didn't fight him. She was probably too weak to fight, even if she wanted to. Casting around for an exit, he quickly realized they were trapped. The fire was now blocking the door he'd come in through, the flames coming up the hallway towards them like it had a vendetta against him. In hopes of getting a few extra seconds to think, Will lashed back with the heel of his foot, knocking the thick oak door shut with a slam. It wouldn't keep the fire out, but it would slow it.

His mind raced, considering his options as he tried running his fingers through Eden's hair, hoping it would calm her. They got stuck quickly—she must've gotten it caught on something, burned edges falling at his tough.

He could running through the fire—it would hurt, it would hurt _a lot,_ but if he didn't stay still, he wouldn't die. But Eden was another story—she wouldn't be able to handle that. He could attempt to break through the thin wall into another room with his saxe, but there was no telling how long that would take or if the fire hadn't blocked the exits to those rooms as well. And, if he remembered correctly, the fire had already gotten into some rooms.

He turned, looking at his last option. The window. It was the best bet—they were only on the second story, and he knew that there were people below their window trying to put out the fire. They would be able to help.

Eden coughed again, her throat wheezing as she tried to breathe. His throat hurt so much, and he would literally kill for a cup of water right then. He'd breathed in so much smoke in the initial evacuation, so it hadn't taken long in coming back up to fetch Eden for him to feel dizzy. The burns on his body were hot, throbbing—he'd be in a lot of pain for a while because of them.

He started for the window, struggling to his feet under the weight of the little girl. "Do you trust me?" he whispered hoarsely to Eden, forcing a smile that he knew she couldn't see as he unlocked the window and lifted it up with one hand. It stuck for a moment, but after a quick hard knock with his elbow, he was able to pull it up completely.

"Hhh," was Eden's only response, moving slightly in Will's arm. She was barely moving at this point, but Will could just barely feel her chest rising and falling against his own. If they could get out, she would survive.

Putting a hand behind her head, Will pulled her tightly against his body, ducking through the window and making sure to protect Eden. She would be coughing up smoke for days, he knew, but that was better then whatever the alternative was.

Parts of the roof were already burnt and collapsing into the rest of the inn, flames shooting up around them on either sides. It was a good thing he'd chosen to come out the window, because if he'd tried getting out another way, they would have been met with flames. Will ducked below hanging debris that seemed to have come from the roof, stepping forward before the flames finally eating into the room behind him could catch up to them.

"EDEN!" Andrea screamed, seeing her daughter in Will's arms on the roof. Getting to the edge, Will quickly realized that the second story was a lot higher up than he'd thought—he wouldn't just be able to jump down with Eden in his arms.

"You're going to have to catch her," Will yelled down, catching the attention of a few onlookers. Andrea started to run forward, mere feet from the fire, before a few others stepped forward as well, all with their arms ready to catch the young girl.

Heart in his throat, he moved her from his side to holding her against his chest.

"You're gonna have to trust me," he said quietly to her, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

He stepped closer to the side, feeling the flames licking at his back. The burned wood planks below his feet creaked, embers sparking up at his feet. He could feel the heat through the bottoms of his boots, the leather for sure burned and cracked from the intense heat.

He had lost everything he carried in this fire—the majority of his equipment, his clothing and food caches, Tug's saddle and saddle bags. He could just see his horse in the distance, some unknown townsperson trying to calm the small horse as he reared his head and bucked, obviously distressed by the fire and his missing master. The only things he had left were what was on him—his saxe knife, his oakleaf, and his wedding ring. And to be honest, as long as he made it out of there, he was okay with losing everything except those things. He could survive without everything else.

Will inched closer, looking down. Part of the roof broke away at his feet, and he stumbled, knowing that he shouldn't wait any longer. "This'll all be over soon," he whispered into Eden's hair, closing his eyes and praying to whoever, whatever, was listening.

He pulled Eden away from his chest, giving her one last once over before letting her go. The young girl dropped off the edge of the roof and into the arms of the waiting townspeople, completely limp as she fell. She was caught by the innkeeper, the petite Scotti woman who swung her in her arms with the momentum, turning towards Andrea and letting the girl get taken up by her mother mere seconds after Will having tossed her.

Eden was safe.

The Ranger took a deep breath, knowing that with his size, they wouldn't be able to catch him as easily. He would probably break a bone or two with how far he had to jump, but it would be better then whatever waited behind him. He could handle a broken ankle or wrist if it meant getting away from this mess with his life.

Preparing himself, he heard a man call out for him to jump, that they'd catch him. None of them besides Andrea probably knew that he was a Ranger, but that didn't matter. They wanted to help him.

But it was too late.

The last thing Will saw was the young mother embracing her daughter, holding the back of her head and sobbing into Eden's burned, brown hair. Andrea clutched Eden tightly, holding her as if she would never let go again. Will hoped that she never did.

The roof cracked underneath his feet as he took a step forward, the roof finally caving in and embers flying up around him. The townspeople screamed, yelling something he couldn't hear as air and flames flew up around him.

The roof went down, taking Will with it. The fire engulfed him and Will Treaty's vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry ~~not sorry.~~


	3. fallout

The messenger arrived at Castle Anselm two days after the fire. They pulled their sweaty and tired horse to a stop at the base of the keep and dismounted, stumbling on their feet and into the soldier standing watch there. The messenger had only stopped once to rest on their way to the castle, tiredness weighing heavily on their body. But they couldn't stall for any reason on this message—it was probably the most important message the rider had ever carried in his life.

"Woah, buddy," the soldier laughed, grabbing the messenger's shoulder to steady him. "Calm down there, what's the rush?"

The messenger pulled his arm out of the soldier's grip, once again stumbling over his feet and falling against his horse's rump. He took a few deep breaths before pulling himself to his feet and looking at the soldier. "I … I need to report a fire. And a death," he said, pulling at the gloves he was wearing. Now that he was here, he realized what this news would mean. He was shaking, looking around worriedly for someone other then a common soldier.

The soldier looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow as if he didn't know how to respond to him. "Isn't that for your townswatch to deal with?" he said gruffly, looking around them as well. The Baron was out, and the Battlemaster wouldn't want to deal with anything like this, not when he was watching the fief while the Baron was traveling. The guard cast his gaze around again, wondering who else could take this annoying civilian who obviously didn't know how procedure went.

"Well, normally, yes—" the messenger started, tripping over his words. He pulled at the gloves he now held in his hands. He seemed to be looking for someone else around them, someone specific, but instead continued with what he was saying. "But the problem is _who_ died. And what happened."

Now, the guard rolled his eyes. "Really?" he said, sounding completely sarcastic. He wasn't even trying to hide it. "Who died? Your gramma?" He said it, not caring what the man said next. At this point, he was convinced that the man was nuts, and was only half listening to whatever he was saying. Maybe if he pretended to listen a bit longer, the man would leave on his own.

"Ah no," he started, frowning heavily at the solider. The man was being straight up rude. "A—a Ranger, sir," he swallowed hard and shaking his head. "A traveling Ranger died at an inn that went up in flames at Monmouth village. I was told someone needed to be notified of his … his passing."

The guard jerked back at the word 'Ranger,' and knocked his helmet against the stone wall of the keep, the spear dropping from his hand in shock.

* * *

Liam looked at what remained of the Wyvern Inn, his arms crossed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Reaching behind him, he took the waterskin that was hanging off the side of Acorn's saddle and took a gulp out of it. His head was pounding, and he hoped that staying hydrated would chase the headache away.

He had arrived at Monmouth Village just an hour before, having left from Castle Anselm nearly immediately after receiving the news. He'd sent a letter off to Crowley first, but honestly sincerely hoped that he'd be able to send another one soon explaining that he had been wrong. That he'd found the Ranger and all was good, he would be healing back at Liam's cabin until he could travel. Liam hadn't shown himself to the villagers right away when he arrived, not until fifteen minutes earlier, dread building in his stomach as he took in more and more information. Upon riding up to the edge of the town, he could smell the smoldering remains of the inn and felt like he was going to puke—he could smell something that smelt like burnt flesh. He had retreated some distance away to the edge of a thin forest and gagged up the remains of his breakfast between silent sobs.

As a Ranger, he knew that it was inevitable that some of his friends and family would die in gruesome ways. Hell, his mentor Jen had passed just a few years before, taking a crossbow bolt to the throat before their horse could even alert them to the danger. He had taken it hard, but from what he had known, Jen had gone without much pain. He'd been in the Corps long enough to know multiple people who had died in both hard ways and peaceful ways. He saw it nearly every day with his job, ending others' lives if necessary. At this point in his life, death was inevitable, and it was just about taking each hit as they came, and getting back up to his feet to continue on.

But it was different when the Ranger you'd looked up to since you were a boy died brutally trying to save a young girl's life. He hadn't taken a death so hard since Jen's, and even though he knew that his stomach was empty, he still felt like he was going to be sick again.

The smell of the burnt remains really didn't help either.

He'd already spoken to the innkeeper and all the witnesses, who all basically told the same story: that they had been woken in the night when there was a loud explosion from somewhere, and Will—they all referred to him as 'the Ranger' except a young mother and daughter—had appeared not too long after, banging on doors for people to evacuate. He had gone through the inn to make sure everyone was out, and was the last one inside. Or at least, that's what they had thought. Apparently the young girl, still holding onto her mother tightly two days later, had gotten separated from her mother, and had retreated back to their room in a panic. Will had gone back in after her, successfully pulling her from the fire and dropping her to onlookers out of the second story window.

 _So close,_ Liam thought, eyes roving over the remains of the inn. _You cheated death so many times, Will._ Liam closed his eyes, feeling tears coming again. He saw death on a day to day basis, but that didn't make it any easier. _It finally caught up to you, huh?_

Liam turned and placed the water skin back in the saddle bags. Then, he pulled the scarf the innkeeper had given to him when he arrived out of the pack he'd tossed it in to. It had been soaked and squeezed out, allowing the fabric to be plenty damp but not dripping. Liam unlatched his cloak and swung it off his shoulders, throwing it over Acorn's neck. He rolled up his sleeves, preparing himself to climb into the wreckage. His throat would be raw after this, his eyes burning, but it was necessary.

He'd already been told that two bodies had been found, neither of them Will's. One was too small, too young: a boy; while the other was too large, too wide, to be a slender, short Ranger. That didn't mean anything to him, though; Liam would search for his friend and fellow Ranger himself. It was the least he could do, after everything.

* * *

_Crowley—_

_I am sending this before investigating the scene myself, but it was imperative that you were notified of this news as soon as possible._

_Tuesday morning, I was summoned to Anselm Castle from my cabin due to the arrival of a messenger from a village at the northern border of the fief. The messenger came with the news of an inn fire—and the assumed death of a traveling Ranger._

_Not wanting to make assumptions, I questioned the man on what he knew. The Wyvern Inn in the village of Monmouth caught fire Sunday night during a robbery. A traveling Ranger evacuated the people when the blaze caught, but went back in when he learned that a young girl was still inside. The girl was saved, apparently, and was reunited with her mother just before the roof collapsed onto the Ranger, throwing him back into the blaze and out of the sight of the onlookers._

_Once the fire was put out, they searched the area for him, but were unable to find him or the remains of his body. Two bodies_ were _found, but not in the location where the Ranger fell or of his build and age, and it was assumed they were some robbers that perished during the initial blaze._

_I still need to travel out to Monmouth to investigate this incident and to identify who the Ranger was. Apparently his horse is still waiting at the village, and I should be able to identify them for sure when I find their horse._

_While there is no sure evidence as to who it was as of yet, Crowley, I have reason to believe I know who was there. The young girl who was saved from the fire, in addition to her mother, had met the Ranger the night before and learned his name. They were calling him 'Ranger Will,' and while I know there is more then one 'Will' in the Corps … there's only one that would be traveling this far south. And only one who's horse is named 'Tug.'_

_I will send a follow-up letter when I arrive in Monmouth and have a chance to investigate further, but for now … I can only hope that this report is wrong, somehow. I … I really hope that there's been some sort of mistake. I'm sorry._

— _Liam_

_Ranger 43_

_Anselm Fief_

Crowley stared blankly at the letter, emotions swirling around in his head. He didn't know how to react. It was always hard, receiving news of a Ranger's death—nine times out of ten, it was one he'd given the silver oakleaf to, had watched rise in the ranks and grow to be their own strong, independent self.

But this one … this one was different.

This was Will _._

This was _Halt's_ Will.

Crowley swallowed hard, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He would have to notify everyone. Halt, Pauline, and Gilan. Horace and Cassandra, who would have to also have to explain Will's death to their daughter, Madelyn. Crowley closed his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw. Alyss, he remembered. Will's wife.

There was a knock at his door, and whoever it was opened it before he could respond. "Hey, Crowley," Horace said, popping his head into the room. "Maddie wanted me to ask if you could spare a few minutes to show her how to walk quieter, or something," the father shook his head, a lopsided grin on his face. "I told her to ask one of the retired Rangers, but she insisted I ask you. I swear, sometimes I think of sending her off to Will for an apprenticeship and see how she feels about it after that."

Numbly, Crowley looked up to Horace, the letter falling onto the top of his desk with a whisper.

He wanted to say something—anything—that would show that everything was alright. That nothing at all was wrong. He shouldn't tell them this news, not when it wasn't confirmed to be true just yet. But even though Liam wasn't willing to admit it right away, the evidence was damning to Crowley. There _was_ only one Will in the Corps that was traveling at that time, and only one Ranger with a horse named Tug. And diving back into a blazing fire to help a young girl was definitely something Will would do.

"Crowley?" Horace said, the smile slipping off his face to be replaced by a concerned frown. The knight stepped fully into the small office, glancing behind him and whispering something about waiting. Was Maddie just outside? Horace closed the door behind him. "Everything alright?"

The Ranger Commandant was normally fairly good at controlling his emotions. When he was younger, he'd had problems controlling his anger and had gotten a lot of shit for it, sure, but years of experience and dealing with a wide range situations had schooled him in maintaining a calm exterior in the face of anything from anger to happiness to grief.

But Crowley couldn't do it this time. Not with Will. And not with Horace. They were family.

"Horace—" he choked out, his voice cracking. He quickly realized that there were tears trickling down his face and he swiped them away, not wanting _Horace_ of all people to see him like this. He liked the knight, he did, but their relationship was purely professional, except for when Will and Halt came into it.

"Crowley?" Horace said again, stepping forward and sitting at the chair in front of the commandant's desk. "What's—"

"It's Will," he said, cutting Horace off. He leaned back in his seat and covered his mouth with a hand, refusing to meet Horace's searching gaze. "There's been an … accident."

* * *

Crowley had known Halt for so long, had been through thick and thin with him. But if he was being honest with himself, he had no idea how Halt would react to losing Will. Will was his son in all but blood and cared for him deeply, so Crowley had decided that he needed to deliver the news in person rather than with a simple letter.

A few days after receiving Liam's first notice, Horace had left for Anselm after getting Crowley's permission and an open, indefinite leave from Duncan. He had personally broken the news to Cassandra and his daughter and stayed the few extra days with them to mourn. But he had also pushed to go to Anselm himself and meet up with the investigating Ranger: he would be able to identify the belongings better than Liam and would be able to take Tug with him when he left. Liam didn't know the passcode for the horse, as sharing passcodes with Rangers you don't work with often wasn't common practice. Either way, Tug would have to go back to Old Bob's, or stay with his family; Liam could have possibly housed Tug for a week or month, but not forever.

Crowley arrived at Redmont only to realize he had assigned Gilan to Redmont in Will's place while he was gone. Halt was still an active Ranger, but mostly took special cases rather then the normal duties as he got older. Will normally covered the fief duties, and Gilan was there to fill in that space. The commandant sighed to himself, dismounting Cropper and leaving the horse next to where Blaze stood—Gilan was apparently visiting Halt and Pauline. Even better.

Knocking on the hard oak door to Halt and Pauline's apartments, more thoughts came to Crowley's mind. He would have to notify Baron Arald as well, letting him know that one of his Rangers wouldn't be returning. Crowley could potentially permanently move Gilan to Redmont with Will's … absence … but that would also require permanently moving other Rangers around to fix Gilan's empty fief. No, Halt would have to fully take over Redmont again until the next Gathering, where everyone else would be notified of Will's passing and plans could be made to work around the death of a Ranger who normally did five Rangers' worth of work.

Buried in his thoughts, he didn't realize when the door opened right away. And in the worst bout of luck, the door opened to reveal a tall, blond courier wearing the uniform for senior members of the Diplomatic Corps, the blue cape missing but the laurel pin high on her left breast, just above the heart. She wore a green shawl instead, handmade and dappled similarly to Rangers' cloaks. He had no doubt that it was made out of an old cloak, one that had been past reasonable repair but had enough left of it to cut into fabric strips. Will had the habit of reusing old materials to make new ones.

It was Alyss, of course.

Crowley swallowed hard.

"Crowley!" she said, a wide smile reminiscent of Will. Of course, it wasn't actually something she'd picked up from Will, Alyss smiled quite a bit, but the man was on his mind, and knowing what he was about to say, his mind couldn't help but make the connection to Alyss' husband—late husband. "I didn't know you were visiting, Halt didn't say anything—" she started to turn back into the apartment, but Crowley quickly stopped her.

"Halt—Halt didn't know. Can I come in?" he said quietly, his voice low. A natural at reading people, Alyss immediately dropped the smile. But instead of saying anything, she opened the door fully, allowing Crowley into the apartment. Just his luck, Crowley quickly realized that everyone he needed to notify besides Arald was in the room—Halt and Pauline were sitting together on the couch just to the side of the fireplace, and Gilan was seemingly updating them on something, his cloak still on and boots muddy. Alyss was probably there because she had been working on something with Pauline.

They all looked up when he entered, the worn letter wrinkled and somewhat ripped in his hands. He couldn't help but worry the piece of paper. Originally, he'd only had the first letter in hand and had prepared his news based on that.

But then the messenger had caught up to him just outside Wensley, Liam's second letter in hand.

Crowley didn't say anything at first and neither did anyone else. They waited as Alyss shut and locked the door behind them and made her way back into the main room, sitting in the seat across from Halt and Pauline and beside where Gilan stood.

He took another deep breath, knowing that he had to say this.

That _he_ had to be the one to tell his friends what happened to Will. No one else could.

"There's … there's been an accident," he murmured, looking down at the floor and clasping his hands in front of him.

He swallowed again.

Crowley looked up, making eye contact with Halt, and then Pauline, then Gilan.

Then Alyss.

He held her gaze as he continued on with what he was saying.

"A fire … down in Anselm," he continued, nearly having to physically force the words out. He felt like he was choking, something hard and painful deep in his throat that was nearly preventing him from continuing. But he had to.

He had to, because no one else could.

"It was just confirmed that … that Will perished in the fire after saving a young girl who was trapped in the second story," he said, his voice so low and strained that he saw Pauline leaning forward to hear him.

Gilan, who was closest to him, looked at him over his shoulder, eyes wide and mouth slowly dropping open. Gilan's expression was completely unreadable: grief, anger, shock, disbelief, and more all flashing across his face only to be taken over by another.

"I—I was going to wait for confirmation, since we weren't sure if it was him, at first, but—" Crowley's voice caught again, a stab of pain in his throat forcing him to stop. He could feel tears going down his face again, but this time he didn't make an attempt to hide them. In front of Halt and Pauline, he could never hide his true feelings, and Alyss and Gilan deserved the truth as much as them. He let them fall. "But I just received Liam's report of—of the ruins. Horace should arrive at the location in the next few days and collect and identify belongings, as well as Tug, but—but Liam's report—" he stopped. Suddenly, he couldn't voice the rest of what he had to say, glancing down at the report in his hands.

… _unidentified remains were found in the general vicinity where Will was believed to have fallen. Nearby were two knives—the standard Ranger gear, a saxe knife and throwing knife, with the initials of "WT" etched into the hilts. No identifying marks were noted with the remains—witnesses said he was wearing his oakleaf and a wedding ring, but no such items were found at the location. Additionally …_

Before he could say anything else, someone shouldered past him, heading for the door.

"Alyss!" Pauline said, standing and starting after her. "Alyss, come back," Pauline reached out for her former apprentice, passing by Crowley as if he weren't even there.

"No!" Alyss spun just at the door, fury in her eyes even as tears started spilling down her cheeks. Her jaw was clenched, and she almost looked like a different person compared to the courier-calm exterior that Crowley was normally faced with. Just then, the commandant realized that she had snatched the papers out of his hands—she had both reports, which meant she had the location of the incident and all of the information that Liam had sent him. "I'm not—I'm _not_ letting this happen in some second-hand sort of way. I'm _not_ letting him just be declared dead like that's that and being done with it." Alyss flung open the door and stepped out before Pauline could grab onto her, the door slamming shut before Head Courier's out-stretched hand could reach her.

* * *

Horace stared numbly at the rubble of the Wyvern Inn. A full week had passed since the incident, but none of the townsfolk had started the clean up yet because the investigation was still going on through their local Ranger. The two story building was now completely leveled, only a few burnt logs still standing upright and the collapsed roof and walls all crumbled inside the remains of the building. Thankfully, the neighboring houses and businesses were far enough away and people reacted fast enough to defend those buildings from any reaching flames, so only the inn was lost in the incident.

As he studied the rubble, a green-gray clad figure started picking their way through it towards him. His vision was either playing tricks on him or he was hallucinating, because he could have sworn that it was Will walking towards him. The green tunic, brown pants, quiver over one shoulder—although, no, Will was—had?—started wearing his quiver at his side. And this Ranger had russet red hair and pale skin, compared to Will's dark brown hair and golden brown skin.

No, Horace shook his head, it wasn't Will. It was Liam, which he should have known.

"…Sir Horace?" an unfamiliar voice said. Horace had never met Liam before, but he'd heard of him through Will before, and Crowley had told him who would be present when he arrived. Apparently, Crowley had sent something back to notify Liam of his coming.

"Yeah," he said, barely paying attention to the Ranger. He didn't want to be rude, but … but he just didn't have the energy for it. Not without Will.

"I—there's not much left to do," the Ranger started, scratching the back of his head and also not looking at Horace. Horace wasn't looking at him either, but he could tell that the younger man was desperately avoiding even looking in his direction. He looked like a mess, now that Horace got a closer look at him, and the knight had the feeling that he looked quite the same, or even worse. "Tug's back at the blacksmith's, where I've been staying the past few days. I can—"

"Yeah, let's go," he cut in, grabbing Stamper's reins from where he'd tossed them over his horse's neck.

Liam nodded without saying anything else, turning to lead Horace around the rubble to a low building down the street. He went to follow, going around the front of the building only to freeze in his tracks. Someone else was standing in the middle of the ruins, another pair of brown trousers and green tunic catching his eyes. But this figure didn't have a quiver over their shoulder or at their waist—instead, there was a saber at their hip and a dagger at their other side. Ash blond hair was pulled into a messy braid at their back, stirring just barely in the light wind.

"Alyss?" he said, his voice barely making it out of his lips before dying between them. Yet somehow, she heard him.

She turned, a blank look to her that not only alarmed Horace, but hurt him. In a flash, all he could think was _I can't lose Alyss too._ He dropped Stamper's reins and stepped into the ruins, walking towards his friend. He didn't know if Liam realized he was no longer following or not, but it didn't matter. Instead, he pulled the jacket he was wearing off and held it out to Alyss. She just looked at it, despite the cool wind blowing through the thin tunic. She would be cold.

Horace sighed and placed the jacket over her shoulders, standing beside her in silence. He didn't want to hug her or force her to do anything that she didn't want to do, but he would be there for her if she needed him. He didn't even know how she ended up there, especially before him, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was making sure she would be alright.

After a moment, Alyss leaned partially into Horace, her head coming to rest at his shoulder. He waited another moment, before slipping his arm up and around her shoulders, holding her tightly.

They stood like that for a while as the sun set on them, in the middle of the ruins that had taken their friend. Their family.

"Excuse me." Liam was back, although now that Horace thought about it, he had probably realized Horace had left him and had given him time with Alyss, as there was no way he hadn't known Alyss was in the building, having come from there when he saw Horace.

"Hmm?" It was the first noise Horace heard from Alyss. To him, it was something. To him, it was potential progress.

"I … we already removed everything from here," Liam started, holding something in his hands. Whatever it was was wrapped with a white cloth stained and marred with dark ash. "I found this while searching for … for him." He held out the wrapped object, looking between Horace and Alyss with nothing but pain and grief in his eyes.

He held it between them for a heartbeat before Alyss reached out for it, gently taking the object and lifting it from Liam's hands. It was heavier then she expected, and the way she was holding it nearly caused a part of it to drop.

Liam stepped back after she took the wrap, ducking his head. "I … I'm sorry for your loss," he said softly, eyes studying the ruined and burned floor. "I always looked up to Will, from my first year as an apprentice, 'till now. I—I just wish I had been here. To help or to stop or—or to take his place." Liam closed his eyes and finally turned his back on them. "I'm sorry."

Even without his cloak, his receding figure disappeared quickly in the fading light. In the darkness, Horace let his eyes play it's tricks again, and barely, just barely, was he able to convince himself that it was Will walking away from them.

Horace looked down at whatever Alyss held in her hands.

Without a word, Alyss unfolded the wrapped object, feeling two separate pieces moving in her hands.

Two blades sat in the cloth, charred remains of some leather at the hilts rubbing off at the movement. Otherwise, the hard steel remained mostly unmarked, revealing what they were to the right eye. A saxe knife and a throwing knife, with initials etched into the hilt. 'WT.'

Alyss let out a pent up breath, before she simply let the blades drop to the ground.


End file.
